“My queen, do you wish to see me?” Casarda came from the back door of the inn to where Clythia was lazily leaning against the stone wall.

“How did you know about the angels?” Clythia’s tone was cold.

Casarda’s brows twitched slightly. “I heard the humans talk about it.”

“Why were they talking about it?”

The Lady of Spies paused before replying. “I don’t know why; I wasn’t there from the start of the conversation.”

Clythia maintained her expressionless poise as she observed the Lady of Spies, who wasn’t balking before her but rather was casual as though she had nothing to hide.

“What have you learned about the other races so far?” Clythia asked. It was about time to get answers.

“Glythia has turned into a drunkard. He rages every night and speaks about Eloin, who is his wife. Morven and Afia are courting.” Casarda paused, expecting some kind of reaction from Clythia, but the only thing she got was a blank stare, so she continued. “The humans are rather interesting. They and Morven get along quite well. He is exposed to civilization, and they claim to have some advancements. I don’t understand a word they say most of the time; perhaps the scholars will help. It’s like they speak another language. Modyr and his guards talk about nature and flowers. It’s nauseating.”

“That’s what you got?” Clythia furrowed her brows at Casarda.

“Yes, my queen.” For someone who was a liar, Casarda was sly, but that wasn’t surprising; she was a spy after all. Perhaps Vina’s suspicions were right.

“That information is of no use to me because everyone knows it, and you know that. If you don’t give me anything of value by the end of tomorrow, I will find someone who will be better than you,” Clythia said. “Summon Vina.”

A minute later, Vina walked out of the inn’s backdoor, sauntering as though it wasn’t the queen who summoned her but rather an irritating husband. The Lady of Hypercas, as usual, gave Casarda a disapproving look before her eyes met Clythia’s.

“I am here.” Vina put her chin up.

Clythia beckoned Casarda to leave.

“Cast a silencing spell,” Clythia said quietly. Surprisingly, Vina didn’t challenge the order but rather did as she was told. “I don’t trust Casarda. She is hiding something.”

If Vina’s resting face was not smug enough, now it was even more so.

“You told me so,” Clythia rolled her eyes. “Stop rubbing it in my face.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?” Vina crossed her arms.

“Why do you always wear red?” Clythia observed the figure-hugging dress Vina wore. She had never seen her in anything but different shades of red.

Vina perked her brow. “I like it.”

“Rather a raunchy color for someone up in their ass,” Clythia smirked.

Vina snorted. “If you are done with being yourself,” she said the last word as an insult, “I want to know how you came to the conclusion that Casarda is untrustworthy, my queen.”

Clythia chuckled, shaking her head. “She didn’t tell me anything of value, and the fact that we are all surrounded by angels and, as she claimed, hearing about it from the humans...” she trailed off. “Something is fishy.”

“Do you want me to find out?” Vina asked.

“Yes, do that, but more importantly, you are the second best person after Lord Masai when it comes to digging and researching.” Clythia was landing a low blow to Vina’s ego. If there was anything the Lady of Hypercas hated, it was being second to anything. Her cheeks were matching her scarlet dress.

“Is that all you ask of me?” Vina was trying to downplay her rage by pointing out how trivial the task Clythia was giving her.

“No,” Clythia said. “Find the current Sovereign.”

“Aren’t all of you rulers already doing that?” Vina asked.

“Yes, but if we find the Sovereign first, it will benefit our kingdom greatly.” When Vina opened her mouth, Clythia added, “Don’t ask me how; just do as I say. Let’s see how all your gloating about being smarter than I or graduating at the top of the class will come of use.”

Vina squared her shoulders, new determination lighting her eyes. “It will be done, my queen.”

----------------------------------------

Clythia was rather calm when Afia was pouring her wine or painting. She didn’t confront her or act any different than she usually did. She had given her warning once, and if Afia was stupid enough to pursue her infatuation with the corpse, she would find the head responsible for that separated from its body and turned to ash so no one could raise her from the dead.

Afia gave Morven a faint smile as she positioned herself on the side where Clythia sat, a good spot for not being spotted by her queen while she admired the vampire with her eyes. Morven wasn’t any better either; every time his eyes met Afia’s, he was lost in the golden pool. When he saw Clythia watching him, his expression turned solemn, and he looked away.

“He looks like shit,” Vina said, as Clythia followed her train of sight.

Glythia was hunched, draining one glass of liquor after another without batting an eye. The blue of his eyes was void of life, akin to a frozen lake. There were dark marks around his eyes.

“Grief is eating him alive,” Clythia said. “If he doesn’t channel it into something else, he will be lost.”

“You really know how to state the obvious,” Vina mocked her.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The Prime stood and strode toward where they were sitting. Vina was wise to scoot aside quickly, because the way he was approaching promised to toss them against the wall. “I am directing it to something important. And there is a culprit among us. I have to find him or her.” He squatted, gaining few heights on the sitting Clythia.

Clythia had imagined the werewolf would come at her to pick a fight or scream, because if someone in grief wasn’t brooding, they were raging. But she wasn’t prepared for him to speak of his intentions after how she had treated him and how her companions had treated his lost companions. And to add to that, she was the culprit.

“What do you mean?” Clythia asked quietly.

“I don’t trust you all. The more I observe each of you, the more I see you are playing your piece of the game.” The werewolf’s gaze was intense on her, a demand of an explanation from her.

When they spoke of ‘all,’ the companions were non-existent. It was about the rulers sitting around the small table: Kay, Morven, Modyr, Glythia, and her.

“What an observation. Untrustworthiness is a given trait for Zyvern rulers,” Clythia said. “Or did the grief finally open your eyes?”

Glythia slammed his hand on the table, causing a slight tremor and spilling Rave’s wine on the tablecloth, earning a death glare that the Prime didn’t seem to notice. He saw nothing and no one but her. “Don’t you mock me, witch.”

“Enlighten me then,” Clythia cooed, raising her glass. “Why don’t you trust us?”

If he had followed her three days ago when she stormed out, if he had eavesdropped on her argument with Morven, or even if Morven had told him...

“I don’t give my playbook to the enemy,” Glythia scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Then why are you here?” Clythia raised a brow.

He leapt to his feet. “I don’t know.” Then he went out of the room.

“Is he sane?” Vina asked, reclaiming her spot.

“I doubt it.”

“He is right, albeit his methods,” Vina said. “All of you play your own piece on the game board. And some of you don’t even know that you are the piece.”

“What do you mean?” Clythia began drumming her nails, earning an annoyed glare from Rave, which she returned.

“The faerie king doesn’t peel his eyes off of you. He surely does like you, but that’s not it. There’s something more, something bothering him,” Vina said. “You won’t notice because every time you look in his direction, he’s looking somewhere else millisecond early.”

Clythia turned fully toward Vina. “What?”

“Also, there is the human king,” Vina continued, ignoring her shock. “It looks like each and every move of his is calculated, as if he is part of a drama. Then there is Morven, the eccentric whose heart is on his sleeve. He shows no shame as he lays his eyes upon a slave witch, and reminding everyone in this room that we are all backward and out of his league.”

“How is that a game if he is that obvious?” Clythia asked.

“I am not the one who said it’s a game, but if you think about it...” Vina trailed off.

“You continued on the Prime's metaphor.”

Vina’s mouth opened slightly. “You are right.”

Clythia was dealing with nutcases today. “How many glasses did you have?”

Vina pouted her lips, thinking hard. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t care. It’s better dealing with you when you are drunk.” Clythia waved her hand, staring at Morven, who was rather occupied licking an oyster. If that was how he was licking Afia, no wonder she was head over heels. “Finish your theory.”

Vina cleared her throat. “If you think about the vampire, he’s predictably unpredictable, so you don’t know what flavor he brings to the game.”

“What about the Prime?”

Vina lurched forward. “Sorry, my queen,” she gulped. “The food isn’t willing to sit in my stomach.” Then she dashed out of the room.

What was wrong with everyone today?

Clythia was on her way to retire to her bedroom when she bumped into an angel. She was her witch self, and she didn’t need to be because whatever deal the human king had struck with the owner, no one but them could access this side for the time being, except for the cleaning faeries.

“I am sorry, did I hurt you?” The angel straightened her. He was handsome with jet-black hair and golden eyes, a strong jawline, and broad shoulders with a muscled body.

Typical.

But he was also an Evil.

“I am perfectly fine.” Clythia pushed on his abs. He didn’t budge. “Get out of my way.”

The angel squatted before her, and she felt like a child being scolded by an adult. “Is that how you thank an angel who saved you?”

Clythia crossed her arms and glared at him. The more she did so, the more confusion marred the angel’s features. “A gorgeous lady like you is a slave?” He trailed his fingers over her arm, the hunger in his eyes increasing.

“Get your hands off my property,” a growl came from behind her.

The angel’s eyes bulged. He leaped to his feet and bowed. “I am sorry, master. I didn’t know she was yours.” The scent of dew and leather became stronger.

Tiyus lunged forward in his angel form, coiling his hand around the angel and lifting him off the ground before shoving him down the floor. “Tell your brethren if anyone touches Queen Clythia, I will send them to the Pit of Light.”

On the last remark, the angel’s cheek reddened before he disappeared into thin air, leaving Tiyus kneeling as he lowered his finger.

“Are you alright?” Tiyus asked her slowly.

Many witty responses clouded her tongue like: ‘What does that mean?’, ‘I’ll never be alright with you around,’ ‘Your property is fine,’ ‘As if you care,’ and so on. But what was the point? She was going to do his bidding anyway, and a runny mouth would only earn her another embarrassing punishment. Draping a shawl around her neck or wearing high-collared dresses to hide their was a real collar beneath it.

“I am fine,” she said and began walking past him.

“Where are you going?” Tiyus asked.

Clythia stopped without glancing at Tiyus. “To sleep.” She had no intention of entertaining his presence or acknowledging it, but she wasn’t stupid enough to just walk away. Who knew what could trigger his temper? Thus, she remained. “How did the Evil know I was a slave?”

“His lure didn’t work on you. When hosts are claimed, other Evils can’t have power over them.” Tiyus’ footsteps were faint before he stopped behind her. “Go to your sleep,” Tiyus whispered in her ear, “Don’t let me stop you.”

Clythia swallowed, a visible reaction of her wrestling will. Some part of her was yearning to invite Tiyus in, to get close to him, to smell and kiss him, and to kneel for him and be under him...

No.

Clythia quickened her pace, and once she found herself in the empty bedroom, she slammed the door shut.

“You really think you can run from me?” Tiyus was leaning against the window, as she practically leapt out of her own skin.

Of course, she didn’t think that. He was her shadow that followed her everywhere she went, though it wasn’t light that made him visible but darkness.

Clythia didn’t respond as she climbed on the bed. It was too early for any of her companions to retire; they wouldn’t do that before the next two hours or so.Her guards were outside, but they had no clue—as always—that the queen they were guarding, the most powerful witch in Zyvern, was a haunted slave of the Evil.

“Can I ask you something without fearing your rage or punishment?” Clythia was still avoiding his eyes as she leaned against the mattress, eyes pinned on the door.

“You may.”

“What is your status among the Evils?”

“I am their lord.”

“Is there anyone above you?” Clythia’s heart skittered. True, he had allowed her to ask, but it was one question, and this question could be triggering if there was anyone above his station and if he envied their position.

“No, not even the Shadow and the Well of the Beast. We are equal in power: three in one, one in three,” Tiyus answered.

Clythia had no idea what that meant, but didn’t want to ask any further. Hence, she shrugged, rolled over, and closed her eyes.

“Why don’t you look at me?” Tiyus asked. He wasn’t letting her sleep, it seemed. “Am I that terrible to look at?”

“If you want me to look at you, you can make me.”

“But I want you to want to look at me.”

“Why would I want that after everything you have put me through? After jeopardizing my son, my kingdom, chipping away at my sense of self every day. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I am in constant fear because of you.” Clythia sighed as a tear rolled down her cheek. “That’s the answer to your first question, master. For the second question, you are terrible to look at because of it. Go on punish me for being blunt on my answer.”

But no reply came after that, Clythia felt lighter, no smell of dew or leather lingered. She slowly opened her eyes and searched the room.

Tiyus was gone.